Alternate
by Era Yachi
Summary: McKay finds himself trapped in an alternate reality, where his alternate self is dead. Can he commit to feelings for Weir he never even knew he had? McWeir.
1. Catastrophe

**AN:** I call this the first chapter, but it's more of an epilogue. The real emotional turbulence (yes, I know, I know) starts next chapter. You would think I would learn not to write angsty, shippy, dark-themed stories after that long, long, long run-in with it three years ago. Well, enjoy anyway. :-)

**Summary:** McKay finds himself trapped in an alternate reality, where his alternate self is dead. Can he commit to feelings for Weir he never even knew he had? If he can, can he ever go back home?

* * *

_Chapter One: Catastrophe_

It started with M7H-885.

The SGA team who discovered the abandoned Ancient lab made a specific note to mention the abundance of artifacts left behind by their predecessors. The first to volunteer on the recovery team was McKay, shortly followed by Dr. Zelenka and Simpson.

The hype that followed was short-lived. Almost every viable bit of information, database, and independent Ancient device had been severely damaged or removed from the system. McKay's team, devastated by the loss of such a large wealth of information, managed to scavenge what they could out of the broken remainders to take back to the Stargate.

Rodney stood by his haggard crew as Lieutenant Sammuel dialed the Gate. He wasn't even aware of Dr. Milton presence until the young man was standing uncomfortably close to his shoulder.

"Yes, Milton? What is it now?" he said snappishly, his mood sullied by the recent tragedy.

"Dr. McKay, I…uh, well, I was going to wait until we were back in Atlantis," Milton started nervously. The Gate whooshed, making the pale blue light cast eerie shadows around the scientist's face. "But, I-I think you should have this now."

Milton reached deep into his pocket to retrieve what looked vaguely like a remote control, only tubular and etched with several glowing rings. He handed it over to McKay.

"This…you found this?" Rodney said in sheer disbelief. "And you're just telling me_ now_?"

The poor scientist looked uncomfortable. He lowered his voice. "It's not really my area of expertise…so, uh, just…you're welcome, okay? Jeez..."

With that, Milton practically all but vanished into thin air. When Rodney McKay was in a temper, who wouldn't? Besides, he was absolutely right. An object of such an alien origin obviously needed the scrutiny of an expert. At least this trip wasn't a complete waste of time.

"All right," he announced, closing his hand around the artifact. He tucked the object into his vest as he turned to face his team. "Lab rats and germs," he said with a slight nod to their escorts. "First of all, let me just say that this expedition isn't a total loss _yet_. We still have a lot of bits and pieces to glue together when we get back. And by 'we', I of course mean 'me', because I'm giving all of you the rest of the day off."

Relieved chatter followed this statement. Their military escorts grinned at the wearied enthusiasm displayed by the team.

"Yes, yes, don't everyone thank me at once," Rodney said with off-handed sarcasm. "Go on, go home. I'm dangerously close to changing my mind."

The scattered team gathered into a steady line and headed through the Gate, whilst McKay fell in behind them tiresomely. He paused only to turn around for one last look at the ruins surrounding the Gate.

He sighed. Not that it mattered _now_, anyway. He had plenty to do in his book already. And now he had an alien TV remote to analyze when he got home.

Coffee. That was the first thing he needed. Then alien remote controls. Blessed, hot, freshly roasted coffee.

He turned back to the Gate and stepped into the event horizon, unaware of the catastrophe that awaited him on the other side.

* * *

_Outside._

_Nothing outside their world mattered. Their only company was the breeze as it unsettled her hair, ruffled his open jacket slightly. The sound of the ocean far below them was just a minor distraction, as her attention focussed on the task at hand._

_Nothing could separate them. Her fingers laced through his hair and his breath, against her skin, warm and welcome—the faint traces of coffee still lingering there and on his tongue. Her back was against the railing, but he was just standing there, kissing her. As if nothing else mattered but this time and place._

_The blissful dream abruptly ended when they parted. Cerulean eyes searched hers for something. His saucy grin made the trademark complete._

_"Rodney…" She smiled in her sleep._

_"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" he said with the edge of innuendo._

_But her face fell, her hands slowly unclenching from their embrace. "Close the Gate," she whispered hoarsely._

_And then she was the Wraith, clutching at his chest and shuddering at the sensation of his life flowing through her. His body withered away in front of her, crumpling and turning into ash, carried away by the winds of Atlantis._

_When he was gone, her heart lurched with the pain of loss, and she fell against the railing. It hurt. It hurt, what she'd done to him. It was nothing but blackness, tainted with guilt, and it shattered her mind to think._

_This was a nightmare._

_

* * *

_"Unscheduled off-world activation!" 

The sound of the alert hardly stirred any reaction from Elizabeth anymore. Four months ago, her heart would have leapt into her throat and she would have rushed to the balcony overlooking the Gate Room. Everyone one else would avert their attention, of course—they found it awkward, and uncomfortable. They knew what kind of loss she'd suffered, and no one had the heart to talk her out of hoping.  
Hoping. That maybe, by some fraction of the slimmest chance, he was still alive.

Her heart broke every time. It went on until she couldn't bear it anymore. Eventually, she stopped believing. She tried to move on, and couldn't—his absence still wracked her dreams, twisting them into nightmares—but she let go of the possibility that he might have survived. He would have been proud, most likely, with her resilience to false hope.

Colonel Sheppard had returned with his team earlier on that day. There were no more SGA teams due until tomorrow. With luck, the unexpected activation was due to a minor setback, and not something life-threatening. Life. Her mind flickered towards a conversation with Dr. Becket not so long ago. Yes, life was important. Now that the Wraith had culled Earth, it was all they had.

Elizabeth walked to the edge of the balcony and was joined by Dr. Zelenka. His face had several more lines in it than she remembered. The weight of chief scientific advisor was heavy on him. Though it made her feel terrible at times, she also knew it was what he wanted. It was something Rodney would have wanted, as well.

"Have we received an IDC yet?" she asked the technician standing by the DHD. The young man's face was strangely askew. "Not ye—" He paused. "We just received one. It's…Lieutenant Sammuel's IDC, sir."

The back of her neck prickled ominously. "Sammuel? When did he leave Atlantis?"

He looked up from the screen with wide, uncertain eyes. "He didn't. He broke his knee last week during a training session."

"What?" she twisted her head towards the Gate. "How is that possible?"

"Dr. Weir," another tech called, springing to his feet. "The shield just shut itself off!"

"Raise it!" The words caught in her throat. All she could do was stared at the shimmering surface of the Gate as a lone figure stepped through. Almost instantly, the Gate collapsed.

Silence flooded the control room as everyone stared at the sole arrival. Elizabeth's heart froze.

It was Rodney McKay.

The few armed soldiers present locked their guns on him, backing away from the Stargate as though expecting an army to come pouring out of thin air.

Rodney stared, bewildered by the unforeseen hostility. He held up his hands with an edge of panic in his voice. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing? Oh, come on!"

She heard him. She saw him. But she didn't believe it. She took in every detail of his face, his clothing, his body. His chest, heaving with short, panicked breaths. His hands—soft hands, she had discovered—displayed in front of him in a plea of innocence.

Exactly as she remembered him. His eyes darted to her as she slowly descended the stairs. "Elizabeth, thank you! Okay, now…. I-I know I might have missed a bit of sleep over the past few days and a tan _probably_ wouldn't kill me, but do I seriously _look_ like a Wraith?"

"No," she said softly, stepping forward. Every inch of her wanted to touch, to feel that he was alive and that this wasn't some horrible dream. "You can't be," she whispered.

"There, you see?" he snapped, clearly misunderstanding her meaning.

Her eyes squinted at him with a fire catching light in the pit of her stomach. She drew towards him, and the burning grew worse. "Who _are_ you?"

The scientist dropped his arms to his side and tilted his head at a 'yeah, right' angle. "Very funny, Elizabeth. I get it now. Ha, ha, this is a joke. Well, ha, ha, you got me—can I go now?"

"Shut up," she said threateningly. "If this is some sort of sick Wraith scheme to infiltrate us, then I've had enough. Dr. Rodney McKay is dead. Who are you?"

The corners of his mouth dropped. "I'm…I'm sorry, did you just say I'm _dead_?"

Elizabeth just shook her head, a sudden sickness overwhelming her. She backed away from him, tearing her eyes away. "Take him away," she managed to breathe. "I don't want to see this."

Shriveled and brittle, his body lay discarded not ten yards from the Gate.

Several of the armed guards grabbed Rodney by the arms. He foolishly tried to struggle, earning him a sharp jab between the shoulders with the barrel of a P90.

"No, wait!" he yelled after Elizabeth's retreating back. "Elizabeth, wait!"

Someone grabbed his sidearm from his belt; another seized the cylinder Ancient's device out of his vest. They began to drag him towards the brig, but McKay was desperate, confused and not willing to give in without a fight.

"It's me! Rodney! Why won't you believe me?" he shouted over the voices of the soldiers as they reprimanded him. He grappled against the men futilely. "Please! _Please_!"

Her feet seemed to drag her down as she climbed the steps. Her whole body was shaking. Her head pounded and the voices of the people as they crowded around her seemed distant. She could only feel the weight of someone's hand as it gently touched her shoulder.

A brief glimpse upward and she found Dr. Zelenka was talking to her. Only she couldn't hear him. The world was beginning to turn. Just before she hit the floor, she felt the Czech catch her under her arms. They yelled for a medical team.

All she could see as the world faded, was the living nightmare she had never been able to escape. Never since the day Rodney had been abandoned on M7H-855.

_

* * *

_


	2. Doubt and Belief

AN: Thanks for the review, dahan. Gotta love feedback. Otherwise, enjoy this chapter everyone...oh, and yes, the rating does apply to the chapters later on. Eventually. I'll get there. (looks at watch) Soon enough.

* * *

_Chapter Two: Doubt and Belief_

Rodney did not like being trapped in a box.

Now, one would assume that being shoved into a cage with see-through bars wouldn't trigger his claustrophobia. Unfortunately, the human psyche was not so pathetically mundane. His subconscious knew there was an energy shield enclosing him into that tiny ten-by-ten space. He didn't have to see the walls to know they were there.

He wondered if Steve had been claustrophobic.

He certainly hadn't been _dead_.

Dead. Elizabeth had said it herself. How could he possibly be dead? He'd left Atlantis eight—no, seven hours ago. Sammuel had made contact with Atlantis before they went though. He didn't—refused to believe that he was the only one who made it through. Somehow they had separated from him, somehow— Damn it! She'd thrown him in the brig. Elizabeth would never do that to him, not the compassionate and wise Elizabeth. Maybe they had all been brainwashed while he was gone. Maybe this wasn't even Atlantis.

He should ask. Just to be sure. And maybe they'd bring him some food. They wouldn't actually let him starve, would they? They let Steve go hungry.

No, that had been a completely different set of circumstances. Steve ate people. All he wanted was a sandwich, and some coffee. Oh, God, he was tired.

The clang of the metal latch wrenched him from his thoughts. He stood up, swaying slightly with sudden drain of what little energy he had left. Three men entered the dark, solitary room. Two of them were armed soldiers. The third was Carson Beckett.

Beckett stood at the door a while longer, staring at the sole occupant of the cell. Rodney stared back, still grasping the bars in anxiety. The two escorts marched to the cage door and positioned themselves on either side. Slowly, Dr. Beckett moved towards them. He was clutching something against his chest—a syringe, McKay noted with a prickling of fear. An empty syringe.

"Carson. This is…this is…" Rodney said, swallowing viscidly. "I never thought anyone would—I mean, I just—just—I-I don't—"

"Take it easy, lad," Dr. Beckett deliberately. His face was pale and sweaty. "I'm not here tae drug ye, I'm just going tae take a wee blood sample."

McKay winced at the doctor's candid evasion of his name. He glanced nervously between Carson's face and the syringe in his hand. "But…but you believe me, right? Elizabeth thinks I'm dead. Why does Elizabeth think I'm dead?"

"That's because ye _are_ dead, mae boy," the Scot said sadly. "I performed the autopsy maeself. There's no doubt in mae mind about that."

"Then…why…" Rodney was breathing heavily. Hypoglemica, claustrophobia and flat-out stress made his entire body feel like Jello.

"I'm going tae come in, if that's okay," said the doctor.

"You make it sound like I have a choice," McKay muttered, gracelessly stepping back from the bars. "Which I obviously don't."

Beckett stepped into the cell once one of the soldiers let down the barrier. They barricaded the door with their guns raised silently as Carson approached McKay.

"I'd prefer if ye didn't make a fuss," he said casually, but the undertone of some personal anguish was there. "They will shoot without question, should ye…well, I'd rather not—"

The rest of that sentence hung in the air like bad weather. It was obvious what Carson was trying to say, but the Scot was having a hard time admitting he'd rather not watch a close friend die—again. Even if there was some doubt whether or not McKay was the real McKay.

"And here I was planning on morphing into a grotesque Wraith hybrid and sucking the life out of your chest," McKay said dourly, rolling his eyes. He regretted saying that a moment later.

Beckett stared at him evenly. "Ye really shouldn't joke about that."

The scientist looked both nervous and stupid. "Right, that just occurred to me."

In response, the Scottish doctor produced a tourniquet from his lab coat pocket and stretched it between his hands. "Ye'r arm if ye don't mind."

"Oh, yes. I love needles," said McKay, rolling up his left sleeve. "You're so kind for asking."

Carson gave McKay an odd look. It was baffled, yet hesitant. He reached out and took Rodney's right arm, rolling the scientist's sleeve back on his own. The tourniquet he fastened securely around the scientist's bicep, preparing the needle to be inserted into a vein.

Having done this on many occasions, Rodney didn't flinch when the small instrument began to fill with red liquid. To be honest, he found the process to be a bit vulgar—blood was specifically meant to say inside your body. Watching it being drawn out via a small plastic tube was, well…voodoo-like.

"There we go," Carson announced with the edge of cheerfulness. He pressed a soft, white cloth against the tiny puncture wound. He gave McKay a gentle pat on the arm. "Now if ye'll excuse me, I've got a fair lot of explaining to do." For a moment, he looked as though he were about to leave. Then, gravely, he added, "Are ye going to be okay like this?"

"Like what? Trapped in an infinitesimal little cell by my own friends, who also happen to think I'm a monster? Hungry, tired, confused and nursing a killer headache?" McKay grumbled. "Best day of my life, come to think of it."

"We don't think ye'r a monster, Rodney," said Carson, shaking his head. "Ye have to remember—we've all suffered a great loss, Elizabeth especially. I know, I can assure you—her feelings for you haven't changed a wee bit. It may…take some time."

McKay's thoughts flickered as the doctor turned and left. Carson clearly was not comfortable referring to him as 'Rodney' to begin with, but there he'd just done it, without any trace of suspicion.

But as he retreated to the far wall of the cell and sat down, his mind was buzzing with the impossible words of Carson Beckett regarding the expedition's leader.

He stared into space, trying to make sense of it.

"Elizabeth's feelings?" he whispered to no one at all.

-----

Elizabeth gazed across the conference table at the scientist, as though she dared him to reveal something terrible to her that she didn't already know.

"Is that everything you can tell me about it?" she said at last, unaware that her knuckles were turning white. Colonel Sheppard, also present and struggling to remain quiet, glanced at her.

Dr. Zelenka, with a small twitch, nodded his head. "That is everything so far, I am sure. Because it is made from the same material as Stargate, it could be the reason the shield shut itself off. But it does not explain why Rod—"

"You said it could potentially be a dialing device," she said abruptly. "A universal remote for Stargates."

"Yes," his voice seemed buffered, as though trying to avoid the subject. "It might be. Or, it could be Ancient's version of a toaster. We are trying to find out, but it will take much, much more time."

"Well, that's a luxury we might not have," Sheppard said. "There's a man down in that brig who looks, sounds, and acts like Rodney McKay. I'm placing my bet on the good chance that he's _exactly_ who he claims to be."

"That's all well and good for you, Colonel," Elizabeth shot dangerously. "But I'm not willing to rule out the possibility that he might pose a threat to Atlantis."

John's eyes narrowed defensively. "Dr. Weir, this is _McKay_ we're talking about—"

"Rodney _died_, John," she said shortly. "Dr. Beckett verified that his DNA matched that of the body, and unless you're suggesting that he rose from the dead, I dare you to prove otherwise."

That set a discomforting silence inside the conference room. Sheppard fixed his jaw firmly and sat back in his chair, but said nothing.

A voice came over the comms a moment later. "_Dr. Weir, Dr. Beckett has just arrived_."

"Send him in," she said quietly.

The doors to the conference room fanned open, and the Scot strolled briefly through, stopping at the edge of the table, opposite of Elizabeth. His face was contorted with raw excitement and disbelief. "Doctor…Elizabeth, it's a dead match."

Both Zelenka and Sheppard jerked to life. Elizabeth could only stare, open-mouthed. "Are...you sure?"

"Aye," the doctor said, smiling uncontrollably. "One hundred percent. He's Rodney, all right. Right down tae the ATA gene therapy."

She was unaware of anything else at the moment. The thought of him was like a steel hand closed around her heart, slowly relaxing its grip. Even though she had just been told, flat-out, the truth, she couldn't start believing it.

"That's not all, Elizabeth," Carson went on, sitting down in an empty chair. "When I spoke tae him, I could tell. They're just little things, but I noticed, he's not even aware that it's happening. He's very much the same person he was before he left for that God-forsaken planet."

Stone-faced, Elizabeth turned her eyes from the doctor's face, to Sheppard's grinning one. That grin turned into a self-confident smirk.

"What are you waiting for? You heard the man," he said.

And just like that, she was up like a shot. She rushed out of the room and down the steps in the control room, with one set destination in her mind. Her heart, absolutely grip-free, felt as though it would burst before she reached him.

The three men left behind glanced at each other. Zelenka's grin, while undoubtedly goofy, was the first true one he'd displayed since the M7H-855 incident. After a minute, Carson cleared his throat.

"How long d'ye suppose they'll take?" he said.

Sheppard leaned back again, folding his arms. "Ah, give them a few hours."

-----

When he heard the metal clank of the door, Rodney fully expected the return of a guard—or an executioner—or even possibly Carson returning for another blood sample. He'd been down here for hours since he'd had any human contact. And truthfully, the mind of a brilliant scientist was a dangerous thing when left on its own.

He didn't look up, waiting for whoever it was to state their business. Hey, this was technically his space they were intruding on. Not exactly Martha Stewart grade, but then, he never was much into interior décor.

It wasn't long before his curiosity got the better of him. He raised his head, and his eyes, ready to assault the newcomer with a tirade of verbal insults.

Until he saw Elizabeth standing there, just outside of the closed cell door. She was staring at him as though she'd never once seen another human being. A few moments of lexical stalemate occurred.

Rodney pushed himself to his feet. "Elizabeth," he said in sullen greeting. "You're looking well."

In response to this, she placed one hand on the door and unlocked it with the other. She never took her eyes off his face as she pulled the door open and stepped inside.

"Sure, come in. Have a seat on the, uh, invisible furniture you were so helpful to provide," he said, though he didn't mean his words to be as harsh as they sounded. "Can I get you something to drink? Magazine?"

Elizabeth moved very slowly towards him, and it was only then he realized how oblivious she was to his sarcasm. In fact, the way she seemed so entranced with him made him feel uneasy. He swallowed. "E-Elizabeth?"

She stopped not two feet away, connecting their eyes with stunned disbelief. Finally, she said, "Rodney?"

"Yes?"

That triggered an all-new experience for him. Without so much as a warning, she reached out, embraced his head with the palms of her hands and locked her mouth on his. Passionately.

There had plenty of times in his life where he'd forgotten to breathe. For just an instant, this was one of them. It took all of three seconds for him to realize what was happening, and Beckett's words happened to float aimlessly in the back of his mind. _Elizabeth's feelings_.

Oh.

As it happened, his body suddenly switched gears—manual to automatic. His lips responded to hers in ways he had only dreamed of before. Well, not dreamed, maybe, but certainly thought about. It was definitely on his mind now, their breaths mixing, tongues exploring the depths of each other's mouths. Half of him was shocked and bewildered—the other half wishing frantically that it wouldn't stop.

Like all good things, it did end. It ended slowly, mercifully easing the effort it took to draw apart. Her eyes were closed in some distant concentration. His hands had slipped under her outstretched arms, embracing her back tightly.

"I missed you," she breathed. Then she placed her head against his chest and started to shake.

It didn't take his genius to recognize her absoluate. Her arms slid down his shoulders and she clung to him as though afraid he'd disappear at any moment. He was convinced he would disappear if he let go of her—even if he wanted to.

He held her, unable to find a word to say—he was, for once in his life, struck entirely speechless. Yes, he—Rodney McKay, with absolutely no comment ready to leap off his sharp tongue. This was Elizabeth. This was his strong leader collapsed against him, deserted of every façade, every mirage he'd come to know her by. This was _Elizabeth_.

Now, as he held her, Elizabeth's feelings suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

And his did not.

* * *


	3. Truth and Lies

AN: Thanks much for the feedback. Also, the rating has been changed from M to T, since the majority of the story isn't M-rated. I'll warn you when we get to the M content. Anything too graphic will be removed, though available at other sites where this story is posted.

* * *

_Chapter Three: Truth and Lies_

Once, when Rodney was little, he had accidentally taken the wrong bus back from school and ended up lost somewhere across town. It had taken his parents three hours to even notice that he was missing. In fact, if Jeannie hadn't begun to make a fuss in her crib, they might not have needed him to play with her, and therefore would have missed him even longer.

His father had driven straight to the Tim Hortons where neighbours had allegedly spotted him, picked him up and gave him hell for the whole ride back to the house. Because of him, dinner was burned and his mother missed her meeting with the real estate agent.

Fast-forwarding twenty-eight years into the future, he found himself reflecting on the incident as he, along with Elizabeth, entered the Gate room.

The crowd waiting for them was immeasurable. As they emerged from the corridor and stepped into the room, there came possibly the most rewarding round of cheers and applause he had ever heard—and it was all directed at _him_.

He wasn't Rodney Mckay, their beloved scientist back from the dead. He was Rodney McKay, the annoying and most useless member of Colonel Sheppard's team. Oh, sure, he was a genius beyond all measures (who would deny that?), but he was pretty sure he didn't deserve this kind of ovation.

He was pretty sure he didn't deserve Elizabeth, either.

There were people lining the balcony above the Gate and along the floor around the room. One of the security personnel clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by. McKay tried to smile gratefully, but he couldn't shake the fact that, hours ago, that same officer had been a hair's breadth away from filling his gut with bullets.

In the center of the Gate room, he stopped to blink expressionlessly at the faces surrounding him. Elizabeth placed a hand on his arm and smiled warmly.

"Rodney, you son-of-a-bitch!" said a familiar voice. John Sheppard himself came jogging down the steps. Grinning madly, he pulled the scientist into a brief hug and slapped his shoulder as he pulled away. "Ford and Teyla are on their way. Bates, too, but I'd try to avoid him as much as possible if I were you."

The back of McKay's neck prickled. "Ford?"

Weir's smile both assured him and disturbed him. "Of course," she said incredulously. "You do remember Major Ford, Rodney?"

"_Major_?" he blurted without thinking.

"Right here!" the unbelievably cheerful voice shouted from the balcony. Ford was the next to come careening down the steps to meet them. Contrasting Sheppard's almost hesitant, tough-guy embrace, the twenty-five-year-old grabbed McKay's arm and hugged him like a brother. "Man, you really are alive! I didn't even believe it until I saw you."

Ford. Sane. Sane _Major_ Ford. McKay stared blankly in response. No one seemed to notice his uncharacteristic speechlessness, because the momentous celebration went on.

"Teyla's on her way back from the mainland," Ford reported with the usual bounce in his voice. "She's bringing Halling and Jinto with her. You should of seen the kid's face when he heard you were still alive. It was like lighting up a Christmas tree."

"Dr. Zelenka took off right after you did," Sheppard told Dr. Weir. "Poor guy thinks McKay's mad at him."

"Rodney? Is everything okay?" said Elizabeth gently. Most everyone had quieted down by now and listened in. "Oh, God, I am so sorry, Rodney. I can't even imagine what you've gone through, and we're making it worse by doing this."

"No, it's…it's…" His eyes darted from her, to the Gate and back.

And then the fatigue, the blood sugar and the recent attack on his understanding caught up with him. With no more than a flutter of his eyes, McKay dropped to the floor like a stone. By the time they could react, he was already lost in a dark haze.

* * *

"All right, lad, he's comin' around. Ye need tae move out of mae way for a moment. Thank ye." 

The first thing he saw through his blurred vision was a face hovering above him. As it gradually came into focus, he realized that it belonged to an Athosian boy. A vaguely familiar Athosian boy. He pricked his mind carefully for the name—Jano? Jimmy? Jinta, Jint…Jinto! His eyes snapped open with sudden recollection of what had happened.

"Where am I?" he snapped suddenly, trying to sit up. His head spun, and a strong hand grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Easy, easy," came Sheppard's voice from beside the bed. "You're in the infirmary. After pulling off an Oscar-worthy faint like that, where did you think you'd be?"

"At home, in bed," McKay groaned, trying to make out the rest of the occupants of the room. Beckett, of course, was standing at the foot of the bed with a gratified look on his face. Halling, surprisingly, stood off behind Sheppard, his hands firmly resting on the shoulders of his son, Jinto. And Elizabeth…

She sat on the other side of the bed, her hand protectively covering the top of his, as it rest palm-down on the mattress. No one else seemed to think this odd, that their expedition leader was expressing more-than-friendly concern for her 'formerly deceased' scientific advisor. Knowing Elizabeth the way he thought he knew, the gesture was very foreign to him, almost frightening.

At the same time, he enjoyed the soft touch of her fingers gently squeezing his own. It inevitably caused him to briefly wonder—briefly, just how far her feelings extended for the man she assumed he was. Because he certainly could not remember ever being that man. He had never even suspected it could be realistically _possible_—

Realistically possible. Oh, shit. He suddenly knew. Of course. It explained everything: his supposed death, the tightened security, Ford being alive _and_ a Major…

Elizabeth. His chest tightened when he realized that the episode in the brig, the impulsive kiss and her—she had not been meant for him. None of it had been for him. She thought he was an entirely different Rodney McKay, one who was dead in this reality. One who would never come back.

"He's doing it again," Sheppard announced with a touch of annoyance. "C'mon, McKay, we just got you back. The least you can do is stay awake long enough to hear your story."

McKay swallowed dryly, glancing about the room. "Story," he repeated in a whisper.

"You could begin by explaining how you managed to escape the Wraith," said a new voice. Rodney would have flinched if he'd had the energy. Sergeant Bates stood in the doorway to the infirmary. Always the easygoing guy.

"Bates," said Sheppard, his tone warning.

"I'm off duty, sir," the sergeant informed him, his arms folded across his chest. "Just thought I'd stop by to check up on the new arrival."

"This is an infirmary," said Carson irritably. "Not a bloody interrogation room."

"No." McKay looked down at Elizabeth's hand. It took a surprising amount of effort to pull his hand away. "He's right. As much as I hate to agree with him, I'm…not who you think I am."

Everyone responded to that the same way—blank stares, confused, tense expressions. All expect for Bates, who automatically stiffened on the defensive. Before he could move so much as a foot, Halling stepped out in front of him and stared him down. Literally. Bates was easily twelve inches shorter than the Athosian man.

And Elizabeth…looked to be the most bewildered of them all. His detaching from her touch was a shocking blow. For so long, she hadn't been able to do this; contact him, reassure herself. And for longer, he'd never once shirked from her. He was Rodney, of course, he'd been incredibly shy in terms of connection from the start, but…not the Rodney she knew.

"McKay?" John broke the silence.

"Look, none of you know me," the scientist went on with a sharpness true to his personality. "I mean, yes, I am Rodney McKay, but not the one you…the one you lost," he finished, averting his eyes ashamedly. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, to no avail.

"Rodney," said Elizabeth softly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm _saying_," he snapped. He regretted that, too. He lowered his voice. "S-Sorry, I just…this is a lot to take in for me. What I'm trying to say is, when I came through that Stargate, I didn't just come from another place. I came from an entirely different reality."

No one moved. No one seemed to know exactly what to think, except Sheppard. He crossed his arms. "He's whacked."

"Oh, so every time I propose a perfectly reasonable explanation to seemingly impossible phenomena, Mr. MESA-test suddenly understands the constitutional laws of astrophysical anomalies?" McKay glared nefariously.

"Maybe not in so many words," said John gratingly. "But _yes_."

"Another reality," Elizabeth said. "I don't understand how that's even possible. Do other realities even exist?"

McKay sucked his breath in slowly, to collect his thoughts. "Yes, they do. Until recently, they were only theoretical mysteries, until SG1 discovered an alien device on another planet that could systematically transport people from one reality to another. Now, obviously, there are innumerable possible universes overlapping each other. Some of them are only slightly different from each other, but there are others..." He let that hang.

"But…you're still McKay," Sheppard pointed out.

"Yes," said the annoyed astrophysicist. "I'm still McKay."

Elizabeth was staring at the corner of the bed. The familiar, steel grip around her heart had returned in full force. Finally, she said, "How?"

Rodney cast her an apologetic look. What could he do? He had no right to take the place of someone else, even if that someone had been him at the time. It was unfair to her, misleading her into a…a…he couldn't even think of a word for it. Relationship? Until a few hours ago, Elizabeth had been no more than a well-respected, highly valued friend to him. And yet—

"Stargates," he said quickly, before that thought could fully form. "Stargates…and wormholes…wormhole physics, I mean—there's a lot we don't understand about how they work or even how they connect to one another. It…" He searched his brain for a possible explanation. "Something might have interfered with the wormhole, which caused my molecular structure to pass between the fabric of space of both realities."

"How can you be so sure?" Elizabeth asked, not for a second wanting to believe that this was true. "I mean, what makes you think that this might be another reality? Isn't it just as possible that you were sent forward through time?"

She knew immediately that she would receive odd glances for saying it. Not everyone was fully classified to read the mission reports of SG1, after all. "I have resources," she quickly explained to Rodney, when she saw his baffled expression.

"I know," McKay said. "I know, because I've…I've noticed things. The most obvious being, of course, is the fact that I'm still alive where I come from. But Lieutenant…sorry, Major Ford, he was killed when a Wraith hive ship exploded. We think," There was a pained tick in his face as he said this.

"The Wraith," Bates said out of nowhere, calmly stepping around Halling as he strode towards the bed. "What do you remember about the Wraith?"

McKay shot him a classic 'soldiers-are-dumb' look. "What do you think? They smell, they're ugly, and they always show up at the most inconvenient times. That, and they're dumb enough to think that we blew up Atlantis to prevent them from getting the Stargate."

kay, now those blank stares he hadn't been expecting. In fact, they were rather disturbing. Sergeant Bates lowered his eyes and turned his head, while everyone else shuffled nervously in their spots.

McKay paled. "Oh, no. Don't tell me…"

With an expression made of steel, Sheppard slowly sauntered to the end of the hospital bed. "Rodney, the Wraith…they…found Earth. Six months ago, they captured some of our scientists on one of the research sites—"

"No," Rodney jerked upright. The first thing he thought of was his sister. "Jeannie—"

"—is fine," said John. "So is General O'Neil, Colonel Carter, and everyone else from the SGC."

"Colonel, I think the last thing our patient needs right now is a heart attack." Beckett, who had remained silent for the bulk of the discussion, now intervened with a grim smile. "I'm afraid I'm askin' for ye all tae let him rest. As far as I can tell, he's both mentally and physically depleted."

Bates turned and left without a word. Sheppard was hesitant. He cleared his throat and acknowledged McKay with a short nod. "It's, uh…good to have you back," he said, and let that settle whilst he took his leave.

Halling started to lead his son away, but Jinto stood his ground firmly. "When are we allowed to return?" he said, looking at Beckett earnestly.

"The moment he wakes up, lad," the doctor promised. "Now be good and mind your Da."

he Athosian boy looked severely disappointed, but he allowed Halling to take him from the room. Suddenly, Elizabeth was the only one who remained. McKay watched as her face betrayed the internal struggle she was having.

Beckett caught on to the connotation and swiftly backed off. The Wraith and four months of personal torment had come between her and Rodney, and he'd sooner denounce his Scottish ancestry before he tried to separate them now. He left the room to allow them their privacy.

For a very long minute, the only sounds in the infirmary were that of a regular, soft beeping and the hum of nearby machinery. Rodney found it a lot harder to speak without the presence of others, because he knew he should say something and didn't know what it was.

Elizabeth broke the silence, after eternity had passed.

"You weren't…" A pause. "…the same, were you?"

He knew what she referred to and didn't have an elaborate answer to give her. Leaning back, his eyes flickered over the far wall. "No," he said.

"Why did you do it, then? _Why_ did you make me believe that I had him back?" she demanded to know, grief tearing at her voice.

"I didn't know at the time!" he defended earnestly. "Of course I was confused at first—and for good reason! Don't get me wrong. Elizabeth and I were good friends. But when…when you started…I thought, maybe she wanted more than that. I had no idea that you thought I was…"

"Someone else," she finished. She was trembling as she rose from her seat. "And obviously, I did. It was my mistake. I'm sorry."

Unable to cope with the fact that she had made such a tremendous mistake, she rushed from the room, out of the infirmary and into the corridor. Rodney shouted her name after her, but she found herself unwilling to listen, walking a blind route until she reached the door of her quarters.

Once inside, she lurched with her back against the wall. Her hands pressed against the cool panels under her arms. Slowly, she let herself slide to the floor, where she buried her face in her arms and only then, she let herself cry.

* * *

_**Four months ago.**_

"Dr. Beckett, we need a medical team here, now!" Elizabeth said sharply, after triggering her headset. "I have two severely injured people and three more have been stunned by the Wraith."

"_I'm halfway there already, mae dear_," came the response.

"Colonel Sheppard, move these people away from the Gate!" Elizabeth shouted over the balcony. "How many more are still coming?"

"Six!" he called back, over the sounds of panicked screams and stunner fire. Three more streaks of blue shot through the open Gate, and he ducked behind some of the containers stacked there. He twisted his head to look up at her. "McKay is with them!"

Fear gripped her. Rodney. She had been so sure he was through the Gate already. What the hell was he doing behind the rest of the team?

"Dr. Weir, the DHD console just shorted out!" one of the technicians yelled to her from the control room. "We can't raise the shield!"

"Rodney, the DHD was damaged by one of the explosions," she informed the scientist over her comm.

"_What_?" his biting tone replied from the other side. It was accompanied by short bursts from several P90s and the sound of yet more Wraith stunners. "_There_ _are three Wraith darts headed this way! How do you expect shut Gate off once we're through?_"

"We don't know, Rodney, we're asking you," Sheppard growled impatiently over his own comm.

"_You want me to think of a way to manually shut down the Gate in the next thirty seconds?" _

"Rodney!" both Sheppard and Elizabeth snapped.

"_Well, I can't! There's only one way to shut it off now, and it happens to be from this side!"_ McKay shot back. "_There's no time for this. I'll do it myself." _

"That's a bad idea, McKay!" John warned him. The Gate room had gone eerily quiet except for the sounds of battle over the comm system. After a brief moment of no response, John obviously grew concerned. "McKay!"

Suddenly, the event horizon of the Gate erupted in a flurry of blaster shots and several moving bodies. Jinto, accompanied by three other children his age and two Athosian adults, stumbled into the Gate room. In a flash of blue light, one of the men was struck by a blast and collapsed, his P90 clattering to the floor.

Elizabeth was gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles were turning white. "Rodney?"

"_I…I'm here, Elizabeth_," he responded, over the comm system. "_The darts…are turning around, coming back…_"

"Get you ass through that Gate, Rodney!" Sheppard ordered. "I'm not asking!"

"_Can't,"_ McKay gasped. "_Should be enough…sorry." _

"Rodney!" she shouted into thin air. "Rodney, don't you _dare_ do this!"

But he did. A second later, the Stargate flared slightly before shutting off.

She stared. They all stared at the empty space inside the ring for several seconds before it became obvious what Rodney had done. Even more obvious was the realization that he had not made it back.

It was that second one that brought her to her knees. The initial shock was brief. So was denial. Denial had a tendency to be brief where the Wraith were involved.

It didn't matter. He was gone.

And the nightmares began shortly after.

-----


	4. Right and Wrong

AN: Mild adult situations ahead. Keep in mind if you want the extended version, you'll have to visit my homepage (found in my profile). I think I'll go take a nap...

* * *

_Chapter Four: Right and Wrong_

"Dr. McKay, are you here?"

McKay put down the Ancient device he'd been studying and turned to his laptop. As for acknowledging her presence in the lab, he scarcely glanced at her and grunted a salutation. "Hello, Teyla."

Teyla stared at him for a few moments. "I have been thinking over the past few days. I believe the term to describe your return would be a 'Hail Mary', would it not?" she said while he obliviously ran his tests. "You were sorely missed in Atlantis, and among my people as well. We owe you a great debt."

"Really," he said spiritlessly. He didn't tear his eyes from the screen. "I'm not the one who went all 'St. Rodney' to rescue a group of children from the clutches of the Wraith. Self-sacrifice is popular among my _alternate_ reality egos, not mine. "

"You would have done the same?"

"I don't know, that's the _point_," he said, lifting his head and rolling his eyes. "Alternate realities are all about _choices_, and the results of every decision ever made. It…it's complicated." And he went back to his task.

"You and Dr. Weir are not speaking."

That caused him to stop typing. "If you're referring to our complete avoidance of any visual contact, then yes, we're not. Despite what everyone thinks, we're not seeing each other."

"But you wish to be?"

McKay snapped his head toward her. "What I feel for anything, about anything, or anyone means absolutely nothing. I belong here as much as a Wraith belongs at a baby shower."

Teyla slowly closed her eyes in contemplation. "You will be leaving, then?"

"Well, it's not like I have a _choice_. Everyone in my reality probably thinks I'm dead, and you already know how well that turns out."

She observed calmly as he grabbed the artifact again and placed it under the residual scanner he'd linked to his computer. He seemed to murmur to himself for a moment, before leaning in closer to the screen to try and make out the finer details of the readings. "Huh, that's strange. These look like burn marks, but they're too evenly spaced apart to be coincidental—like it was damaged on purpose. Why would they deliberately break their own equipment and then leave it behind? That doesn't make any sense."

Being used to, if not expectant of McKay's tendency to ramble on out loud, Teyla simply shook her head to indicate that she could not help him. He went back to working in a thoughtful daze.

"Your sister does not understand why you will not visit her on the mainland," she said after a pregnant pause. "I believe she has someone she wants you to meet."

"I've…" He slowed, looking distracted. "I've been meaning to do that. H-How is she?"

Teyla smiled. "Healthy," she said. "She often worries about you."

Bafflement dawned on his face, and for the first time since they had begun talking, he abandoned his project altogether. "Really? S-She and I…we weren't all that close, actually…it's a family issue thing."

"Before Dr. McKay, _our_ Dr. McKay died," she went on sadly. "She was very close to him. Her husband was taken by the Wraith while they fled from Earth."

"I know. Sheppard told me." McKay eyed the Ancient device behind him and leaned over the desk. "I never liked him, but I don't suppose he deserved to be taken by the Wraith."

"Will you visit her?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line before nodding. "Yeah. Just as soon as I…" he trailed off. "Soon as possible."

"Then I will make the arrangements with Colonel Sheppard," she said pleasantly. "Good luck, Dr. McKay."

"Thanks," he uttered, mostly to himself. He stood without moving for a while after she left, thinking. About Jeannie. About Elizabeth.

He knew he had to face the pricking fear in the back of his mind, and that meant facing her again. To be honest, he was anxious to go back. He had thought to their prior disconnection in the infirmary, and it just didn't feel right. He should apologize.

He sighed. Elizabeth.

* * *

Zelenka tapped the order of command into the console. The pattern of Ancient symbols revolved, sorted into separate columns, and realigned themselves into the exact same order they had been before. He tapped again, they rotated, and he received the same results. This was no computer error. Was it mere coincidence? 

"Seeing ghosts, doc?" Sheppard's voice reached him from the top of the Gate room stairs. "You look like someone just shot your dog."

"I do not have one," the Czech scientist said quickly. "Colonel, this you really must see."

John strode over to the panel Radek was currently staring at. After a few moments of nothing, he side-glanced at him. "It's a nice address. Where does it go?"

Zelenka looked at him gravely. "Nowhere."

"I'll assume there's some deeper, more…astronomical explanation than that."

The scientist let out a weary sigh, gesturing with his hands toward the screen. "I have managed to find the exact address of the location Dr. McKay was traveling from."

"And this is it?"

"Yes. The Stargate cannot reach this place. It doesn't exist."

Sheppard turned around to give the Gate a sharp glance-down. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, yes, I have run many tests, and they are all the same." The scientist entered something else into the laptop he had glued to prior their conversation. "But that is not what I needed to tell you. In terms of position, any Stargate that may theoretically be at this address, would have planetary value of M7H-885."

"M7H-885?" The name struck home in John's memory. "The name of the planet where McKay was killed by the Wraith was—"

"M7H-855," Zelenka finished for him. "They are almost identical."

A reflective tilt to his brow exposed Sheppard's thoughts. "Any chance it's just a coincidence?"

"You tell me."

"So probably not." For a moment, John rolled this over in his head. "Good job, doc, you just may have solved the first part of our alternate reality issue."

"Thank you, Colonel, but I have more to tell you," Zelenka said with the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth. "We attempted to dial M7H-855. It…is gone."

* * *

He found Elizabeth in her quarters, about three hours after he left the lab to unwind. At first, he'd intended to walk around the long complex of corridors until he could focus his thoughts, but as soon as he stopped wandering, he found himself outside her door. 

The strangest feeling overcame him. He had _never_ been to Elizabeth's quarters more than once, and somehow he'd managed to find it without even thinking clearly. It was almost as though he had come here a hundred times before, and he couldn't remember a single detail about it.

Gathering his nerves, Rodney readied himself to knock on the door. An instant before his knuckles connected, it slid open. Elizabeth stood there, he eyes side with surprise.

"Rodney," she choked, placing a hand on her collarbone. "Oh, God, you scared me."

"We need to talk," he said with a halt to his voice. "I-I know it's late and everything, and it's been a few days since we've seen each other, but I…have to get something off my chest."

She stared at him blankly, trying to understand the meaning of his words without betraying her own skepticism. Slowly, she nodded her head, eyes trained solely on his face. "O…okay, come in."

Rodney hurried inside after she moved to allow him entry. As soon as the door closed, he turned on her, jaw clenched tightly and his eyes closed in concentration. They snapped open a second later.

"Hit me."

Her mouth dropped. It took a great deal of effort to force it closed. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Just do it," he sighed. "Punch me. I deserve it. Actually, I deserve a lot worse than that, but since I'm technically not that _brave_…look, just and don't try to tell me you don't want—"

His words were literally knocked out of his mouth when something hard struck his nose. By the time he realized she had, in fact, slapped him across the face, the immediate stinging sensation had already reached his brain.

"Ow!" he cried, cupping his hand over his nose and backing away. "I didn't think you'd hit so _hard_!"

"Oh my God, Rodney, I am so sorry!" Elizabeth rushed after him and reached out to carefully pry at his fingers. "I don't know why I did that. It's been a rough day, and I was just…never mind, here, let me see it."

"I think you broke my nose," he complained, reluctantly lowering his hand. She grinned when she saw the evident lack of blood, indicating that the blow hadn't been so serious.

"You'll be okay," she told him, withdrawing. " Unless you want me to get Carson's second opinion."

"You wouldn't," he grumbled. "That's foul play."

"Hey, you should consider yourself lucky I used my hand and not my knee," she retorted knowingly. "There are other places I could gone for."

"Yes, thank you for that." He probed gently at his nose. "Did it make you feel any better, at least?"

Elizabeth looked shocked. "Is that why you asked me to hit you?"

"No, I thought my nose looked a little crooked, so I thought I'd ask you to fix it for me." Rodney grimaced, but refused to sound bitter. It was his nature to be sarcastic. She'd understand.

"I see. Is there…any other reason you wanted to see me this late?" she ventured, startling him.

"Huh? Oh, ah…no. I mean, yes, but…ah," his voice stammered. "It is late, isn't it? Sorry. I have this bad habit of losing track of time when I'm…" He trailed off.

The mood turned sullen and foreboding over the course of a few seconds. Whatever lightness in the air there might have been, it was now replaced by a shroud of expectancy. The topic they both wanted to discuss was right there, out of arm's reach. They too, were unable to reach each other.

"What happened at the infirmary…" she began, folding her arms tightly and averting her eyes. "Or better yet, what happened in the brig, it…"

"Was influenced," he supplied for her. "I mean, it's quite obvious that you thought I was…someone else, and I thought…"

"You thought I was her," she said. "The Elizabeth from your reality."

"Well…yes," he admitted. "It's a case of mistaken identity, only with the right identities and the wrong…people. That sounds strange, doesn't it?"

It didn't matter to him. Their exchange in the brig was nothing more than a mistake to her, maybe, but he didn't care if she was Elizabeth or Elizabeth. He _knew_ the Elizabeth standing in front of him had feelings for Rodney McKay—very honest and soul-bearing affection, the kind he'd given up on years ago.

"Can I ask something?" he said, when she made no attempt to continue the discussion.

"You just did," she pointed out, smiling grimly. "But go ahead."

"What…what was I like?" Rodney flinched at his own bluntness. "I mean…Rodney. The other Rodney. Were we different? And I mean Jekyll and Hyde different, not white-over-blue socks…different." He finished on an uncertain note, watching her expression as it turned to quiet contemplation.

Some time passed before she replied.

"He was exactly like you," she said quietly. "And yet…" She paused to elect the right words. "I still can't look at you without expecting you to love me. I try, but I can't."

Who could tell him that he _didn't_ feel exactly that? The only thing keeping him from simply stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her was the gnawing doubt—that he could be anything like his alternate self. The Rodney she knew was Mr. Sensitivity as far as everyone else was concerned, and his sensitive side wasn't exactly the most prominent part of the McKay resumé.

Basically, staying with her caused her pain, and staying away made her uncomfortable. He was helpless. He had vast, extraordinarily powerful scientific knowledge, but very little data in deep, passionate emotions.

"So," he started casually. "How did we…I mean, the two of you…end up together?"

It seemed forever before she would answer. Then, slowly, her weight shifted and she turned to face him. Her eyes avoided his face, directing their attention to the bookcase behind him instead. "We…we were stranded."

The tension between them eased by a few kilotons. Rodney kept his mouth in check, knowing full well that she would leak as much information as she wanted to. He absolutely did not want to force anything out of her.

"We were both separated from the team on the Genii homeworld. The others managed to make it back to the Stargate, but…the Genii had surrounded us. They ran us down for what seemed like weeks, until…" She paused, looking disturbed by the memory. "Rodney, I thought I'd lost him. The bridge collapsed, it was a miracle he survived the current…" She held her breath for a moment. "When I found him, or we found each other…I'd convinced myself he'd drowned, and he thought Cowen had taken me prisoner, so we just…I don't know, it was so bizarre, realizing how much you care for someone so suddenly."

He was beginning to wish he hadn't asked. Naturally, she didn't have to mention what had happened following their meeting. The slight tinge in her cheeks told him enough about that. And this caused the weight in his chest to grow even heavier. Would he and Elizabeth…_his_ Elizabeth, have done the same? Did it matter? It wasn't like he'd ever have the opportunity.

She obviously took his silence for discomfort, because the longing expression on her face abruptly faded. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have—"

"No, no, no, you should," he said quickly. "You should. I just can't believe I would…I mean, we would…not that it's bad, or anything, but the fact that anyone would want…you know, I should just…stop talking."

To his surprise, she broke out into an embarrassed smile. And then she _did_ look at him, probably on impulse, but it sent his heart racing. "You have the right to know, Rodney. And believe it or not, I know more about you than you think. Enough to know that you blame yourself for what happened."

"What?" he said, in futile defense. "That's not…" She was gazing at him expectantly. "Okay, fine, _maybe_. So what?"

"So _what_?" she repeated, crossing her arms defiantly. "Rodney, it had _nothing_ to do with you. Even if it did, he made the choice he thought was right. Is that not what you would've done, in his place?"

"To protect you, _yes!_"

The words froze on his lips as his face fell in shock. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Did I just say that out loud?"

"You did." Her tone was guarded. Carefully, she lowered her arms to her sides and moved closer, her gaze fixed solidly on his eyes, like a moth to a flame. "What I'm more interested in knowing is whether you meant it or not."

His jaw opened and shut without a sound. Was his face turning red? "I think I did," he said, swallowing. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I'm not entitled to know how you feel about me?" she asked incredulously.

They were inches apart. At this point, whether or not she was _entitled_ to that knowledge was starting to seem rather irrelevant. And here he was back to the same question he had the knack for asking—did it really matter? Their proximity had his body reacting in ways he had been _sure_—until a week ago—only short-haired blonde women had the power to create. There was only one other explanation to what was happening, and that was the inevitable fact that he _wanted_ this.

"I think," he said, swallowing again, nervously this time. "I think you're entitled to pretty much…anything you want."

"Good," she said softly, reaching behind his neck and pressing her warm lips over his.

This time, there was no cause for delay. Deepening the kiss, he curled his arm around to her back, sheathing his fingers in the base of her hair. Whilst their mouths battled gently, he used his free hand to caress her shoulder, slowly massaging its way down her arm, touching flushed skin and pinning it to her side. There, his hand disembarked to rove its way around her waist, stroking the small of her back. He pulled her against him.

And then it all stopped.

"Rodney…" she said breathlessly. His ministrations did not stop. "_Rodney_."

And then he did pull pack, releasing her in surprise. He looked like a child that had just been slapped. It pained her, but she had no choice.

"We can't…" She looked down, her throat suddenly dry.

It was obvious he wanted to say something, but not for the first time since they had met, he was at a loss for diction or even a flat-out 'Why?'

Elizabeth blinked, hating the burning sensation in her eyes. "I can't just…pick up where we left off." She had to explain, but how? She couldn't even explain it to herself. "I…I saw what the Wraith did to him…I _saw_ him, Rodney. I saw _you_. As much as I want this, I can't let myself forget that you're not him. You haven't done the things we did together, and I'm not just talking about sex." Her voice became softer as the memories came flooding back. "Sometimes we would just talk. I know it sounds crazy, but he…he would hide around corners, and appear right at the moments I needed him most. We played games, had dinner; stole things from our rooms just for an excuse to see each other, even after we stopped needing one."

Her face was wet with tears by the time she finished talking. Even though she was not yet crying, the sight of the thin streams washing over her cheeks pulled the strings in his chest. He opted for something apologetic, or comforting to say, but he didn't know how. He could only wipe the dumbfounded look off his face and stare, his throat tightening visibly.

"You have no idea how hard it is to stand here and be reminded of these things," she said quietly. "We shared so much, and for such a long time, but I feel like I barely know you. Please understand, Rodney, it has nothing to do with you personally. I just can't…replace him."

She was going to lose control. No one understood what this was like, what they had before Rodney died. It didn't matter if she tried to explain it—it simply wouldn't be the same.

"I miss him so much."

A sob escaped from her throat, and that broke the last barrier. At that moment, she might have collapsed into a heap, if it were not for his arms that suddenly enveloped her. He held her tightly, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder while he made comforting sounds, one hand gently stroking her back. She was understandably broken, and the pieces that remained were still fragile. Now he knew.

Tonight, she was Elizabeth. She was shattered, and overwhelmed. She didn't need sympathy for her loss—she needed her grief to be understood. He would do that for her. He would even give up any chance he had to be _with_ her.

And just like that, he knew. He loved her.

* * *


	5. Crime and Punishment

AN: My Czech translations are very, very, very, very off. If you know Czech (highly doubtful), then please don't laugh at me.Please. Oh, and thank you for the lovely feedback. So...yes. More, you say?

* * *

_Chapter Five: Crime and Punishment

* * *

. _

_Seven days since arrival_.

Progress with the Ancient device was not going well. McKay had reluctantly come to the conclusion that it was broken beyond repair, even if such a thing had been possible to begin with. Admitting defeat was hard. It meant not only was he _not_ going back to his reality, but he also would never find out why he was stuck out here in the first place.

He had gone back to being Elizabeth—no, Dr. Weir's chief scientific advisor. It didn't take a genius to tell how thankful Zelenka was for that. Smart and resourceful, the Czech scientist may be, but the weight of so much responsibility, especially after the world-wide apocalypse had put a permanent crease in his spine.

On top of it all, M7H-885 was gone. Broken Ancient device? Okay, fine. Disappearing planet of origin? Bad. Very bad.

He didn't particularly care about M7H-855. Somehow, it had gone missing from the Ancient database. Someone had either erased it, or it was accidentally deleted when the DHD went under repairs, but either way it meant nothing to him. Going to the site of his supposed 'death' wasn't the world's most entertaining idea. Who visited their own grave? Who would hold it against him?

That thought was rudely interrupted by the palpable sound of a throat being cleared. McKay looked up from his laptop to find the last person he expected to see standing not ten feet away.

Dr. Sullivan Milton smiled warmly, his hands clasped behind his back in silent observation. The young man arched his eyebrows when he realized his presence had been discovered. "Ah, sorry. Am I interrupting?"

"No, no," said McKay with a tone that gave all evidence to the contrary. "Not…not at all. I'm languishing in the aftermath of scientific failure," he said, tapping his fingers on the useless Ancient 'remote' on the table before him.

"That's too bad," remarked the younger scientist. His blonde hair seemed matted, his eyes puckered with extreme exhaustion. "I was just passing by and thought maybe you wanted a hand?"

"No, it's—" Rodney paused suspiciously. "Wait, I thought this wasn't your area of expertise?"

Milton laughed. "Okay, it's not. But I overheard you mentioning to Colonel Sheppard, how I was the one who gave you the device back in your reality? I felt sort of bad about that, so I guess I'm here to say…sorry."

McKay snorted, pushing away from the counter and trying to work a kink out of his neck. "As much as I'd love to torture you in cruel and inventive ways, I can't bring myself to blame someone who's technically not at fault. Try not to fall over when I say 'apology not accepted'."

"You're right. Coming from you, that's almost blasphemy," said Milton. "I…I hope you don't find this awkward, but you should know that Dr. McKay was a close friend of mine…before he died."

"Ah, well excuse me if I don't recoil in shock," McKay said dourly. "Apparently, my alternate self was a lot more sociable than yours truly. Ever get that feeling like you don't belong somewhere?"

The scientist's expression didn't change. "All the time."

"See? You're the first person who actually understands that. Everyone else is too busy looking at me like I'm some kind of disastrous result of a Wraith experiment."

Milton tilted his head in an odd way. "And Dr. Weir? Does she?"

McKay's eyes flitted away for a second. Briskly, he snapped his laptop shut and disconnected the cords from the back. "She's different," he snapped, gathering the computer under his arm and taking the device from the counter. "I think I'll take this back to lab, I uh…yeah. Maybe Zelenka has a few ideas."

"Dr. McKay—" Milton turned as he brushed by him and headed for the door. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," McKay called, without looking back. He vanished down the corridor long before the young scientist had a chance to close his mouth. A moment later, the corners of his mouth fell. He glanced over at the station McKay had abandoned. For a good length of time, he did not look away.

* * *

It was meant to be a harmless visit. Sheppard had a question to ask that had been nagging at him for hours. Under normal circumstances, he was against disturbing Elizabeth in her quarters. This was, on the other hand, way beyond normal circumstances. A good friend of his, whose death he'd already accepted and put behind him (not without great difficulty), had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. And still, she was utterly devastated with an irreversible heartache. He could tell. Nothing slipped past his nose when it came to Elizabeth. 

Which could only lead him to one conclusion—Rodney had said, or done something wrong. He wouldn't put it past the scientist—he was fully capable of screwing things up on his own.

But when John reached Elizabeth's door, he knew immediately that something was wrong. It felt like a stone in his stomach. Warily, he reached up to activate his radio. "Elizabeth?"

There was no response. He gave the closed door an apprehensive glance before using the comms again. "Control room, this is Sheppard. Can you tell me if Dr. Weir is in her quarters or not?"

"_This is Zelenka,_" came the response. "_There is someone inside Dr. Weir's room, yes, but scanners do not tell the difference—"_

"Radek," John interrupted quickly. "Just open the damn door!"

The scientist's sigh could be heard on the other end. "_Just one moment, please, Colonel_." There was a significant pause. "_No_, t_his is not possible. Neuvěřitelný! It will not open_!"

"_Tell_ me that you're joking!" Sheppard snapped, smashing a palm into the console on the wall. Still the door did not respond. "Find a way to open it!"

"_Ztišit, já jsem namáhavý_…" Zelenka's voice trailed off with a slightly panicked trill. "_There is nothing I can do. I am being blocked out from here!_"

Clenching his teeth in frustration, Sheppard stepped back and drew his firearm. "Screw this," he hissed, and opened fire on the console. It exploded in a rain of sparks and broken crystals. A half-second later, the doors slid open. A rush of air tugged at him, as though he had just opened the door to an airlock instead. He ran into the room, keeping his M9 down but ready to react at any sign of danger.  
Elizabeth lay slumped in front of her desk, a mug of freshly spilled coffee scattered and broken on the ground beside her. The first thing John noticed was the lack of any noticeable wounds. Putting away his sidearm, he rushed to her side and knelt, checking for a pulse—and found one, to his immense relief. She wasn't breathing easily. Shit.

"Beckett, this is Sheppard!" he spoke into his radio. "I need a medical team in Dr. Weir's quarters, _now_! She's hardly breathing!"

"_Oh, crap. We're on our way, Colonel_," the MD replied, sounding as though he'd been struck in the chest by a sac of bricks.

John had absolutely no clue as to what had happened, but he wasn't about to take any chances. Stepping over the broken bits of mug, he leaned over, hooking his arms around Weir's shoulders and under her knees. He then lifted her and carted her out of the room, where he set her gently on the floor in the corridor. The abundance of oxygen seemed to help her to suck in a little more air than before, but not much.

Elizabeth's eyes flickered as she regained consciousness, although she wasn't fully aware of him or anything else around her. It was right about then the team arrived, equipped with both stretcher and Dr. Beckett himself. John moved aside to allow Carson and a young medic he couldn't quite name to take over.

"Alrigh', what happened here?" the Scot demanded, resting a hand on her shoulder as the medic carefully strapped the oxygen mask over her airways. She clutched at it feebly, aware that the live-giving pure oxygen was suddenly there.

"I don't know." Sheppard replied with a grating tone. "I just decided to stop by and check on her. She wouldn't respond to my radio. I contacted Zelenka and he couldn't get the door open, so I shot it open. This is how I found her." He paused, feeling a surge of anger. "Carson, the air was _sucked_ out of that room. Someone was trying to kill her."

"Now let's not go jumpin' tae any conclusions, Colonel," the doctor warned, giving Elizabeth's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Can ye hear me, lass? Jus' nod if ye can."

Her head bobbed weakly. Her blurred eyes traveled from his face to John's where they thanked him silently, but with a sincerity that unsettled him. He looked at the ground and placed his hands on his hips. Rodney…Rodney should be here. Hadn't he heard the call over the radio? He could be asleep, or his radio might be turned off…damn it, where _was_ he?

His thought might as well have cued him, for an instant later, he saw McKay himself come charging down the corridor towards them. He grabbed the scientist's arm before he could completely lose his temper and held him at bay.

"Rodney, stop—" he started, but was immediately cut off by McKay.

"Elizabeth? What happened to her?" he snapped, jerking his arm away from the lieutenant colonel. "Sheppard, do _not_ make me do something I'll regret doing later! Right now, you're standing between me and the woman I love! Does that _sound_ like a good idea to you?"

And still John did not move, despite the astounding effect McKay's words had on him. Okay, too much to think about. Right now, he had to make sure the man stayed out of Beckett's way. Rodney could try to attack him, but chances were he'd win out in hand-to-hand conflict.

As he struggled to keep Rodney at bay, Carson was gingerly helping a medic to lift Elizabeth to her feet and onto the stretcher. Her eyes were round with surprise and she tried to look around their shoulders at Rodney, but she was also mindfully obeying Carson's direction. Finally, she gave in and lay back, taking oxygen into her starved lungs with immense relief.

"I can take everythin' from here, Rodney," the doctor promised him. "Don't ye worry abou' a thing."

McKay stood back from the scene as Beckett and his team left with Elizabeth in their care. He stared after them anxiously, ready to burst into action again at any moment. Sheppard purposely put himself between the scientist and the corridor, trying to distract his attention.

"She's in _good hands_, Rodney," he said sternly, earning a brief glance-over at last. "Let the man do his job. He's probably worried you'll knock him flat if he so much as lays a hand on her. I mean, _look_ at you! Hell, even _I'm_ afraid of you!"

"Tell me what happened, John!" the scientist demanded, looking sharply at him. "I think I have a right to know!"

"I know that!" Sheppard said just as harshly. "I'm not stupid, all right? How was I supposed to know you feel that way towards her? Last time I checked, you didn't want to be involved!"

"Oh, and since when is any of this _your_ business?"

"I don't know, Rodney, maybe it's not!" Sheppard had forced himself to lower his voice. He was kind of glad he hadn't called for additional security, or he wouldn't have this chance to set things straight with McKay. "I watched Elizabeth fall apart for _months_ after you failed to come back through that Gate. I _know_ you, Rodney. You would _never_ hurt Elizabeth. But if you think for just a _second_ you could feel a fraction of what he felt for her—"

Without warning, McKay hauled back and delivered a hard punch to Sheppard's jaw. John swore loudly and stumbled back, cupping a bleeding lip as he glared at the scientist in surprise. Never, would he _ever_ have expected Rodney to react like this. The man had just _punched_ him, damn it!

McKay stepped back, glowering and shaking his hand. He clasped his bruised knuckles in his other palm before leaning in again to pronounce his words carefully. "Don't even pretend to understand how I feel about Elizabeth."

And then he pulled away, turned, and stormed off. He didn't even listen to Sheppard as he called after him. Let him question the sincerity of his feelings—go ahead, it didn't matter to him. Now he knew someone was trying to hurt Elizabeth, and he doubted his arrival in this reality was just a coincidental factor. Accidents didn't 'just happen' in the safety of one's quarters.

He wanted to head straight for the infirmary. It took a great deal of convincing himself that getting in Beckett's way would just earn him another point for idiocy. For now, he needed to talk to Zelenka. Everything he needed to know about the cause of the incident started in the control room.

* * *

"The code was _switched_? That's it? Elizabeth almost suffocated to death because someone changed the access code to her door?" 

The wrath of McKay was unlike anything Radek had dealt with in the past four months, and despite himself, he found Rodney's antagonistic behaviour grating his already fragile nerves. He had already explained the issue to the man four times—why would the simple idiot not leave it alone?

"There is only two ways to switch such code," he said, knowing full well that he'd went through this concept already.

"Yes, yes, I know," McKay interrupted. He was standing across the glowing panels with his arms crossed. "You either have to be inside the room and have access to the console, or you rewrite the door's mechanism from here using the original code."

"Exactly. And because the computer did not recognize the new code, we know it was not Elizabeth who made the change." Zelenka looked flustered by this. "It must be someone from inside the room."

Rodney buried his face in his hands, trying to run thousand scenarios inside his head but none of them seemingly plausible in the least. "That's impossible. Even if someone—_theoretically_—managed to tamper with her door without her noticing, I'm pretty sure she would have noticed before that her old code wasn't working."

"Ah," said the Czech scientist with a shrewd smirk. "Not entirely true," he said, jabbing his pen towards him. "It is possible this person set up a…a time delay of a sort, for the code to activate itself."

"Are you kidding?" McKay snapped. "Do you know how much of a genius this guy would have to be to do that? It takes someone highly skilled in Ancient technology to tinker with something that advanced!"

"I couldn't have said so better myself."

Every head in the control center turned to the passage adjoining the Gate room. Bate stood there, aglow with the invisible aura of a man who had just caught a convict in the act of crime.

McKay closed his eyes and sighed. "Why, Sergeant, thank you so much for joining us."

"I'd be careful where you direct that sarcasm, doctor," Bates said. "Some people might start to suspect it's an act."

Zelenka was the one to step forward, holding the handheld computer almost as though he were thinking of the best way to use it against the sergeant's skull. "Is there something we can do for you, Sergeant?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm going to do you a favour. I happened to overhear something interesting from the investigation team you two sent to the labs."

Rodney snorted. "Oh, do tell."

Bates aimed a sharp glare at the scientist. "Apparently, the command to vacate the air from Dr. Weir's room was given at a console in _your_ lab, Dr. McKay."

It was like being struck by a lightning bolt. McKay's mouth opened soundlessly, all expression draining from his face. Everyone else within earshot had stopped what they were doing to watch.

"Wh-what?" Rodney managed to sputter at last. "But that's not…that can't be."

"I'm only stating a fact," Bates said, stone-faced. "Thirty-six minutes before Colonel Sheppard found Dr. Weir, _someone_ connected to Atlantis's mainframe and ordered the atmosphere to be vented out of her quarters, slowly. I'm guessing whoever it was also knew that Dr. Weir didn't have her radio and wouldn't be able to open her door."

"Oh, so now he's guessing!" McKay threw his hands in the air angrily. "And here I thought we were just stating facts!"

"This command," said Zelenka, ignoring McKay's complaints. "You said it was given at the console in Rodney's lab? But he must be logged in under special clearance to use that computer."

Bates looked grim. "He was."

McKay, who had been leaning on the back of a terminal, looked up at this. "No, see, this doesn't make any _sense_. I was in the mess hall for at least an hour before I heard Sheppard contact Carson over the radio. When I left, I took my laptop with me. Obviously, I wouldn't forget to log…out." He trailed off as he realized how wrong he was. "Oh, no."

Zelenka continued to stare at him. "Rodney?"

"I didn't," he said feebly. "I didn't log out of the system. I was in a hurry, and I forgot to shut down the lab's computer. I must have…" His voice cracked. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "Milton!"

"Milton?" Radek looked genuinely confused. "You mean Dr. Milton?"

"_Yes_, Dr. Milton," snapped McKay, pushing back from the terminal. "He was still there when I left. Anyone with half a brain can input that command into the computer. Ask _him_."

"Are you saying he's the culprit?" Bates asked suspiciously.

"No," the scientist seethed. "I'm saying that anyone who happened to walk by my lab _before_ the computer was accessed, but _after_ I left could have done it. We're talking about a twenty-four minute span here."

"So it could be anyone," Zelenka confirmed wistfully. It was back to square one, then. They had nothing to work with as evidence.

Bates, with a final distrustful glare at McKay, turned to face the Gate room and strode out. McKay sighed his frustration, before making his way in the opposite direction.

Zelenka didn't even have time to argue—he was gone before he could look up from his datapad. Frowning, he muttered something rather unpleasant and probably best left in Czech for the collective ears around him. It was so hard to keep track of a man who needed to be everywhere at once.

Of course, if Rodney were capable of such a super-power, then there would be nothing left to prove his innocence to prying eyes. Radek pondered with a twinge of guilt, if McKay was even aware that Atlantis had now made him a suspect to a crime too vile to forgive—the attempted murder of Elizabeth Weir.

* * *

"You think _I_ did it?" Milton all but squeaked. The unfortunate man looked horrified. 

"We don't think you did anything," Sheppard explained carefully. Why was _he_ the one saving the defenseless science geek's arse from getting interrogated, one might ask? It was simple—Rodney just couldn't keep his mouth shut, and now he'd involved someone else that probably didn't need to get involved. "All this is, is a matter of narrowing down the list of suspects, so I need to ask you some questions."

"Look, Colonel," the young scientist started and shook his head in disbelief. "I understand completely what you're saying. But whoever did this, it wasn't me. A-Actually, I don't think anyone could have done it. At least, not from McKay's lab."

Sheppard paused for a moment, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Okay," he said slowly. "Explain."

"Well, Dr. McKay kind of…left in a hurry," Milton described. "After he left, I saw he'd left the computer running, so I shut it down. If…if what you say is true, then whoever accessed it must have turned it on again using his personal identification code." He swallowed, obviously unnerved by the presence of his fellow scientists.

"Colonel, I have to agree with Milton," said Simpson, her eyes grim but determined. "He's a specialist in forensics. He knows less about Ancient technology than Dr. Beckett."

"And there's that," Milton said quickly, brightening a little. "Seriously, I suck at this Ancient stuff. I'm just a biologist."

"I see," said Sheppard. He glanced around the lab at the faces of many researchers. "Well, sorry to bother you folks. I have to get back to the infirmary now. Milton, you need to tell Sergeant Bates _exactly_ what you just told me. Just…if at all possible, leave out the part about Rodney's identification code."

"Uh…sure," the man said with a twist of his eyebrows. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help, sir."

As Sheppard turned to leave, the features on his face darkened. His lip still stung. As he passed into the corridor, he said under his breath, "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

It was odd that Elizabeth found herself in this position. She visited the infirmary quite often, though she was accustomed to standing on her own two feet while doing it. It was her initiative to visit those who were wounded and tell them how proud she was for their sacrifice for the expedition. Sometimes she would stop by just to make sure Carson was holding out. He usually was. The visits were still nice. 

She had been lucky enough to avoid serious damage, although her chest still burned with the reminder that shortly ago, her lungs had been screaming to be filled with air. Carson informed her that she had bruised several ribs, probably from the fall cause by a fainting spell rather than suffocation itself. In that event, she was ordered to remain in bed overnight. To be honest, she didn't feel up to disagreeing.

No one seemed interested in talking about it. She didn't blame them. Nearly dying from asphyxiation and living to tell the tale—at this, she closed her eyes. It was a cruel way to kill someone. The oxygen had been sucked out of her room slowly, which gave her plenty of time to realize what was happening. Several minutes, at least. By the time hypoxia hit, she had only barely managed to stand up and try for the door. The next thing she knew, she was in the corridor outside her quarters, in front of Sheppard.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dr. Beckett's accented voice arguing quietly with someone else. A smile automatically shaped her lips. Even a quiet Rodney was an identifiable one. Who could mistake the sharpness of that tone? She could almost see him waving his arms, burdening Carson relentlessly with a tirade of insults—especially if he were preventing Rodney from seeing her.

And Carson would cave eventually, if only for the sake of his other patients.

She felt the expected twinge of grief that followed shortly after. It was becoming a constant reminder of the loss she—no, Atlantis had suffered four months ago. The Rodney that was here, in this room, was not her Rodney. She could make no such claim. If, by any chance, the Elizabeth in his reality harboured any feelings for him, she was not willing to steal that opportunity. She would rob someone of her first chance for a selfish attempt at a second one.

And she knew, that if Rodney _did_ feel anything for her, she should not be the one on the receiving end of that affection.

She heard Carson move off, and Rodney appeared at the end of her bed. His hands were clasped behind him and he didn't seem too comfortable with the idea of standing still. But there was no mistaking the relief lining his sleep-deprived face. Elizabeth knew that the only barrier between them was of her own making.

"Hey," she said, hating the fact that she sounded so weak. Her throat was a bite sore. _Please, don't worry about me, Rodney_, she silently begged him. _You have enough on your mind as it is._

He smiled almost painfully. "Hey," he replied, clearing his throat. "Did I wake you? Because if this is a bad time, I could always…"

"No, stay," she told him. "I'm glad you came."

"You are?" He looked surprised, and even a little hopeful. "Oh, well…that's…good. I wanted to come earlier, but there was a lot to do with the, uh…" Clearly he didn't want to bring up the incident, which was endearing in its own way.

"The accident," she supplied for him, gesturing towards the chair placed several feet away from the bed.

"Yeah, that." He pulled the chair closer and sat down, leaning forward.

"Rodney," she said softly. "We both know that what happened wasn't a coincidence."

At this, his jaw tightened and he looked positively vengeful. "I swear, Elizabeth, the moment I find out who's responsible for this, I—" He broke off mid-sentence, his fists balled tightly. "Whoever did this will pay."

She watched him for a few moments. Instead of replying, she simply lifted one hand off the sheet in a silent, meaningful offering. She read the surprise on his face as clear as day as he slowly sat up, glancing at that hand as though he couldn't quite believe it was for him. But he did gently take it in his own, resting their grip against the side of the bed.

There was no more talk of revenge or near-death experiences. She held onto him, grateful just for the warmth of his hand. Living, flesh and bone hand. If a perfect world existed, this would be it. There would be no more time, and she wouldn't be forced to accept that he would one day leave her again. A world where he chose her over an entire universe—a universe where things were different.

But no such world existed. For now, at least, she could selfishly pretend that it did. Just for a short while. It was all she could ask.

* * *

_Neuvěřitelný --_ Unbelievable 

_Ztišit,já jsem namáhavý -- _Quiet, I am trying.


End file.
